


Say 'No' to the Dark Side!

by avanti_90



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Drugs, Fix-It, Gen, The Force Has a Weird Sense of Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avanti_90/pseuds/avanti_90
Summary: Six years after the Revenge of the Sith, the Rebel Alliance struggles against the Empire’s growing stranglehold, Darth Sidious schemes to acquire the perfect apprentice and complete the destruction of the Jedi, Darth Vader hates his life, and Obi-Wan Kenobi receives an unexpected visitation that threatens to end his exile.This is a story about revelation. This is a story about redemption. This is a story about the destiny of the Chosen One, and the friends who help him along the way.This is also a story about hallucinogenic drugs, suspiciously convenient frogs, and 10,000 adorably cute baby banthas.





	1. In Which a Frog is Moved

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I just want to say that this story is incomplete. Six chapters are currently written and, while _never_ is a harsh word, it is entirely possible that no more will be added. I like these six chapters, and I hope that you read and enjoy them, but if you are looking for a complete story, I must unhappily say that this is not it.
> 
> Thanks to carmarthen for beta-reading the first few chapters.

“Long live Emperor Palpatine!” muttered a handful of voices.

The Stormtroopers moved closer around the crowd, hefting blasters in their armored hands. The next cheer was louder. “Glory to the Empire!”

Apailana, Queen of Naboo, watched the sullen expressions of the crowd as she carried the Orb of Peace and Glory through Theed’s central avenue. Senator Jar Jar Binks and Prime Minister Sio Bibble walked just behind her, followed by her handmaidens and councilors. Behind them, two ranks of armed Imperial Stormtroopers filled out the procession.

Her arms were aching from carrying the luminous Orb halfway across the city, in her heaviest ceremonial robes and her most impressive headdress with a hundred and one strings of diamonds dangling to her ankles, but the penalty for disobeying the Empire was death. And the Imperial Governor had ordered that Naboo should turn out in all its finery to celebrate Empire Day – the sixth anniversary of the fall of the Republic and the slaughter of the Jedi.

Electric sparks danced across the interior of the Orb in blue and purple arcs, and sunlight glittered on the polished surfaces of Apailana’s jewels and the hovering holo-cam droids. But all Apailana could see was the crowd’s sullen resentment.

She knew what they were thinking. Her childhood heroine, Queen Amidala, would never have agreed to this. Amidala had believed in democracy. Amidala had fought for her planet’s freedom. She would have fought the Empire.

But Amidala had fallen with the rise of the Empire, and she, Apailana, was Queen. And she had chosen to surrender and survive.

The procession wound its way along the river toward Theed’s grand plaza, where the new Imperial Governor, Tarkin, waited before the Palace. Soon Apailana would kneel and hand the Orb - the same Orb that Queen Amidala had once given the Boss of the Gungans - to _Tarkin_ , representative of His Supreme Majesty Palpatine, the vilest traitor ever produced by Naboo.

And then she would have to sit and smile while Tarkin, the most pathetic bootlicker in the galaxy, explained to the Naboo at length how very fortunate they were to be cheering at blaster-point for the glory of the Empire.

As she approached the arch at the end of the plaza, a large frog hopped out of the river and stopped in front of the procession, dripping water and staring up at the Orb with its bulging eyes. Then it emitted an offended croak and hopped away from Apailana.

 _Even frogs hate me,_ Apailana thought sadly. _I will be the most reviled Queen in Naboo’s history after today_. _But my people will live while others die_.

“Mmm-hmm!” she heard Senator Binks murmur, but she paid no notice. Emboldened by her resolution, she marched on, looking steadily at Governor Tarkin and his Stormtroopers as she approached the Palace. Yes; it was obvious that the Empire was too powerful to fight. Anything other than complete surrender would be suicide. She would kneel willingly, and hand over the Orb and Naboo’s freedom with a glad heart, knowing that she was doing the right thing for her people.

Even if it was not what Queen Amidala would have wanted.

So engrossed was she in these thoughts that she did not notice when Senator Binks, who was just behind her and hidden from the crowd by the folds and trailing plumes of her elaborate headdress, shot out his three-foot tongue to catch the leaping frog, or when the terrified frog leaped away from him, around her, and onto her ceremonial robe, where it got tangled in the strings of diamonds hanging from the Royal headdress.

In fact, she was so engrossed that she noticed nothing until she was climbing the Palace steps. It was at this point that the struggling frog, seeing the assembled Imperial contingent, gave a shrill, terrified croak and leaped off her robe, dragging the tangled diamonds with it, and she stumbled on the hem of her gold brocade over-gown as she ascended the final step.

The Orb fell out of her hands and soared over the step, a giant purple spark spinning as it turned over in the air, until it landed squarely on Governor Tarkin’s boots – and shattered.

“AAAAAHHH!” screamed Governor Tarkin as his legs were engulfed in purple sparks.

There was a moment of absolute, still silence in the crowd. Then Tarkin crumpled to the ground, face contorted in pain. Stormtroopers moved to surround him. Apailana, horrified, threw herself forward at Tarkin, ready to prostrate herself and beg for mercy for her people.

“R-r-rebel traitor!” croaked Tarkin, pointing at her with a shaking hand. “ _Arrest her_!”

Frozen in place, Apailana watched the Stormtroopers step forward. The crowd rumbled as it understood what was happening, a threatening mass on the verge of turning into a mob.

Then the cry rose from a thousand throats. “ _Down with the Empire!_ ”

“No!” screamed Apailana. Her voice was impossible to hear over the roaring.

“ _Freedom and Democracy!_ ”

“No!” Apailana yelled over the heads of the Stormtroopers. “ _Don’t do it_!”

“LONG LIVE THE REBELLION! LONG LIVE THE JEDI! _LONG LIVE QUEEN APAILANA!_ ”

That was the last thing Apailana heard before Stormtroopers closed around her, armored fists tightening over her shoulders, and someone pressed a syringe against her neck.

She sent a single prayer to the Force, that the Emperor would be in a benevolent mood when he heard of this. Then she passed out, and the crowd surged forward with a roar.

 

***

 

Unfortunately for Queen Apailana and the Naboo, Darth Sidious, Master of the Sith and Emperor of most of the known galaxy, was in a particularly foul mood that day. Since he was a Sith Lord, this translated to a vicious rage that sent sparks of electricity flying between his fingertips and made the comlink embedded in the arm of his throne explode.

Also, he was finding the sound of his apprentice’s breathing _intensely_ irritating.

_Khoo…hhh….khoo…hhh…_

“ _Again_ , Lord Vader?” he snapped. “You let the rebels escape you _again_?”

Darth Vader clenched his fists and glared at the black stone throne that Sidious had just acquired, after the old one’s cushions had caught fire in the middle of their last meeting. “The rebels are nothing to me, Master,” he rumbled. “Kenobi is the one who took everything from me. He took my body, my life, he took _her_. He is more important to me than any rebel. I _must_ find him!”

Sidious’s voice was icy. “There is nothing you _must_ do, Lord Vader, except obey my orders. And I ordered you to locate and destroy the rebel headquarters, not to turn around and run at the first false rumor of a Jedi!”

“Kenobi will not escape me again, Master!”

“Kenobi was never there in the first place, you fool! The rebels tricked you!”

_Khoo…hhh….khoo…hhh…_

Vader looked slowly up at Sidious. “You do not understand my pain,” he rumbled. “You never understood. All you see is your Empire.” He lifted a black metallic finger to point at Sidious. “You…are as bad as the Jedi were!”

Rage surged through Sidious’s palms, seeking an outlet. He suppressed it with considerable effort. Much as he would like to let loose with Force lightning, it would short-circuit Vader’s respirator and leave him without an apprentice. While he was beginning to appreciate the benefits of such a state, it would be tiresome to have to hunt down all those rebels on his own. Though it would undeniably be far more effective as well.

_Khoo…hhh….khoo…hhkkkk…beeeeep!_

Sidious smiled as he reached through the Force and compressed the pipe leading from the respirator to Vader’s breath mask. Vader fell to his knees with a reverberating clang, breathing in slow, desperate gasps until Sidious released the pressure.

“Next time, Lord Vader, you will obey my orders,” he said, his voice laced with artificial sweetness. “No thoughts of Kenobi – or anything else - will distract you from your assigned mission. Am I clear?”

“Yes… my Master.” Sidious could feel the hatred coming off in waves from Vader. He would enjoy twisting the knife further.

“I will give you one last chance to prove yourself, Lord Vader. You will go to the world of Naboo.” Sidious grinned beneath his concealing hood at Vader’s consternation. “Queen Apailana has raised her people in a rebellion against their new Governor. Such an act must be met with suitable _force_. You will kill the Queen’s council, and bring the planet under the direct rule of the Imperial military.”

“I will obey, my Master,” Vader said in a flat voice, before turning on his metal heel and stalking out with a furious swirl of his cape.

Sidious sat back thoughtfully as Vader left. While normally he would have been pleased to feel such rage radiating from his apprentice, right now it just exasperated him. Really, Skywalker’s temper tantrums had been far more entertaining when Kenobi had been at the receiving end.

Well, he’d been _encouraging_ the tantrums, then. He really should have known it would backfire.

Kenobi, however, had been a Jedi, and the foolish Jedi rules of compassion had prevented him from properly disciplining his apprentice. Sidious had no doubt that _he_ could break Vader, given time. Twenty years or so of harsh punishment, and even Vader would buckle down and become a tolerably obedient servant.

But Vader simply wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. His rage and mechanical augmentations made him a fearsome warrior, but his ability to use the Force had been halved with the loss of his limbs. As for Force lightning, he’d never be able to learn that power without short-circuiting himself.

Also, there was that incredibly irritating breathing. Really, there were times when Sidious was sorely tempted to leave his Empire behind and hunt down Obi-Wan Kenobi himself.

But no; it was better this way. Let Kenobi wither away in some distant desert, abandoned like the relic he was, drowning in memories of his grief and his failure. Let him watch the Force darken with the rise of the Empire and feel the tremors of fading Light as every remaining Jedi was hunted down and killed, and let him never guess how much his former apprentice was driving Sidious to frustration.

How fortunate it was that Vader was only a _temporary_ apprentice. A mere step toward the fulfillment of Darth Sidious’s most long-laid, secret, subtle, _delightful_ plan. 

Soon his place would be taken by Sidious’s _true_ apprentice, one who was far more powerful, far more intelligent, and infinitely more self-controlled. One who was almost fit to match Sidious himself.

Indeed, there was only one being in the galaxy who could give Sidious a real challenge in the Force, only one being who had ever fought him to a standstill, only one being for whose skill and tenacity Sidious could feel any small, grudging hint of admiration…

…Yoda, Grand Master of the Jedi.

From the day he had become Chancellor of the Republic twenty years ago, he had begun taking measures to separate Master Yoda from the Light side of the Force. He had witnessed his success when Yoda had attacked him in anger at the end of their duel in the Senate, touching the Dark Side for what was probably the first time in his nearly nine hundred years. Yoda himself had been so shocked that he’d tumbled off the Senate pod they were fighting on.

By now Yoda must be on the verge of collapsing to the Dark Side entirely – and when he Fell at last, his power would sweep Vader away like dust on the floor.

Sidious’s shriveled face twisted into a cruel smile. Soon his destined apprentice would come to him, ready to learn the ways of the Dark. Soon he would end both Vader and Kenobi, and win Yoda’s allegiance – and with that the Jedi Order would be destroyed forever, and the Sith would reign for eternity.

 

***

 

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi woke up that morning to the sounds of hundreds of crickets, frogs, reptiles, water birds, and countless other alien creatures. Smiling at the profusion of the Living Force that surrounded him, he got out of bed and wrapped his old Jedi cloak around himself.

On either side of his, Luke and Leia’s little cots were empty. He could sense their bright presences in the Force, so he knew they were fine, and nearby. Sure enough, it was only a few minutes before he heard their voices outside the door.

“Saw it first, I did! Mine, it is!”

“All right, all right. Keep it if like it so much you do! But saw it first, _I_ did.”

A moment later, six-year old twins Luke and Leia Skywalker scampered into the shelter. Leia was holding on to a large purple fruit with a determined expression, and Luke was pouting, but both of them broke into wide smiles when they saw him.

“Good morning, Master Obi-Wan,” they chorused, bowing neatly together.

“Good morning, younglings,” Obi-wan replied courteously, smiling back at them. Just like every morning, he was reminded of how glad he was that he hadn’t gone along with Master Yoda’s plan to separate the children and send them to foster families. The idea of raising them on Alderaan and Tatooine, both worlds well within the Empire’s reach, was absurd. Frankly, Obi-Wan was convinced that grief had addled Master Yoda’s mind when the ancient Jedi had ordered him to take Luke to Anakin’s family.

It was obvious that the children must be hidden where the Empire would never think to go. So Obi-Wan had taken Luke and Leia, accepted the gift of a ship from Bail Organa, and flown far into the Unknown Regions where no Republic vessel had gone before.

The Force had led him to a small green planet covered with seas and swamps, teeming with life. He’d been amazed when it turned out to be none other than Yharyar, Master Yoda’s legendary home planet. The small green natives, all naturally force-sensitive, had been delighted to welcome a Jedi Master among them. That had been six years ago, and since then Obi-Wan had never felt the least desire to leave.

“Master, look!” Leia held out the fruit in her chubby arms. “Found breakfast, I did!”

“Well done, both of you,” said Obi-Wan, solemnly accepting the offering. “Now come, it’s time for meditation before breakfast. We must join your fellow students.”

Leia pouted and Luke grinned as Obi-Wan shepherded them out of the shelter to the island where they lived along with the rest of the Jedi Order, all of which was presently seated under the trees for their morning meditation.

When Obi-Wan had first arrived on Yharyar, he had been surprised to find that the amphibian inhabitants did not rear and nurture their young as humanoids did. Younglings typically lived together in large groups after hatching and fended for themselves. A group of younglings had started joining in the Force games he played with baby Luke and Leia, and before he knew it Obi-Wan had wound up including them in his first lessons.

Now he had no less than five hundred young padawans, all strong in the Force, the tallest of them no more than a foot high with smooth grass-green skin and floppy ears – except for Luke and Leia, of course.

Obi-Wan smiled as he walked around the tree, looking down at the rows of little green heads, greeting his students while correcting their breathing and posture. He noted with pleasure the empty spaces where several padawans were away - repairing homes that had been destroyed in a flood, or delivering food to islands where the catch was poor.

His padawans were all delightful. Like true Jedi they traveled all around the small swampy world, doing good deeds and sorting out disputes between their people. It would not be many more years before the Jedi Order was ready to return to the galaxy. An overwhelmingly tiny green Jedi Order, to be sure, but the strength of a Jedi was in the heart.

At last Obi-Wan allowed himself to bask in the light of the Force as he settled down in meditative posture at the head of the group. Who would have imagined that he would one day train an entire Order of padawans by himself? But somehow after teaching Anakin, no student seemed too much.

The thought of Anakin saddened him now as much as it had six years ago. He knew Anakin’s Fall had been his fault, and he was truly astonished that the Force had let him have a second chance. He was still very sad about the whole disaster, but with five hundred padawans demanding his attention he honestly had no time to grieve about it.

That brought another flash of guilt. Because of the constant demands of his padawans, he had also had no time to contact the spirit of his old Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. In six years he had not attempted the meditation that Master Yoda had taught him, which would allow him to see into the shadowy realm called the Netherworld of the Force.

Maybe he should just let it go. Honestly, after all this time Qui-Gon had probably forgotten all about him. Maybe he would never have to see his old Master’s disappointment.

No, thought Obi-Wan, a Jedi did not allow fear to rule him. He decided firmly that today he would try to communicate with Qui-Gon Jinn. He was terribly sorry about failing with Anakin, but perhaps Qui-Gon would forgive him when he saw that Obi-Wan was doing his best to make up for it.

He rested his palms on his knees and sank into deep meditation, remembering the instructions Master Yoda had given him so long ago. Instead of reaching for the Force, he allowed the Force to flow through him, obliterating his sense of self. The green swamps of Yharyar faded into a gray mist at the periphery of his vision as Obi-Wan opened himself to other worlds.

For a few minutes all he saw was featureless gray mist. Then he heard, as if from a great distance - slow, polite applause.

“Well done, Obi-Wan,” said a familiar voice. “That was remarkable for a first attempt. I knew Yoda had a reason to hold you in such high esteem.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open in shock. He could hardly believe it. There before him stood the faintly blue, glowing, figure of a bearded Jedi Master, a man long dead – a man he had known very well indeed.

He surged to his feet. “ _Count Dooku!_ ”

Sith! This had been a trick all along! Could Dooku find out his location? How was Obi-Wan going to get all his padawans off the planet before the Empire came?

“Or perhaps not,” Dooku drawled. “Do _think_ , Master Kenobi. Surely this swamp you live in hasn’t dissolved all your brains. Darth Sidious betrayed me and had me killed so he could replace me with a younger apprentice. Why would I help him?”

Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber. “I know better than to believe a word you say, Dooku. What have you done with Qui-Gon Jinn?”

“Really, Master Kenobi, if you don’t believe a word I say, why ask?” Dooku smirked, waving a hand in the direction of the gray formless mists. “Qui-Gon’s spirit is here and perfectly safe. I simply do not permit him to speak to you at this time.”

“Don’t tell me Qui-Gon takes orders from the likes of _you_.”

Dooku’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, believe me, he has no choice. You should bow before me too, Obi-Wan. I am the Emperor of the Netherworld of the Force.”

The Sith had conquered not one, but both worlds? This was troubling news. Before Obi-Wan could seriously consider the implications of that, Dooku extended both his blue glowing hands to him. Obi-Wan quickly stepped out of his reach.

“You _must_ listen to me, Obi-Wan. I have been in communication with Master Yoda -”

“Yoda!” Obi-Wan’s saber was out now, though he wasn’t sure what he expected it to do against a blue glowing ghost. “What have you done with _him_?”

“Nothing!” Dooku snapped. “Just listen, you fool! Master Yoda’s state of mind has been deteriorating for the last six years. He can no longer maintain Jedi mental discipline. If something is not done to help him, I fear that Yoda might not be able to resist the Dark Side, and the Emperor’s influence -”

“ _Yoda_ turn to the Dark Side? That’s ludicrous.” But Yoda himself had told Obi-Wan that he had felt anger in his battle against Sidious. That was why the old Master had gone into solitary exile in the first place – to meditate away the touch of the Dark Side.

Obi-Wan hesitated. What if Master Yoda hadn’t succeeded?

“I know my old Master! Listen to me, Obi-Wan. You must go to the Dagobah system at once, or Yoda will Fall – and then nothing will save the galaxy, not even the Skywalker twins and all your tiny green padawans!”

“Dooku…” but Dooku’s mouth had frozen in mid-speech. His form slowly faded, and Obi-Wan was pushed away from the otherworldly link, until at last he opened his eyes to a forest of luminous green eyes staring curiously at him, wondering why he was standing holding his lightsaber in ready stance instead of leading them in meditation.

Obi-Wan offered his students a wan smile. “I have a better idea today, my padawans. How would you like to go on a mission?”

 


	2. In Which a Lamp is Lost

On board the Mon Calamari cruiser _Home One_ , the leaders of the Rebel Alliance sat together around a conference table, watching the video playing for the third time on the screen embedded in the wall.

“Who would have imagined that Queen Apailana was secretly a rebel?” said Admiral Ackbar, staring with awe as he watched Governor Tarkin go down in a crash of glass and electric sparks. “She always pretended that she wanted to save lives instead of fighting. And to think that all the time she was planning such a grand gesture!”

“I couldn’t believe it when they told me she electrocuted Tarkin and threw herself at him, trying to rip out his throat,” said Mon Mothma. She paused in admiration as they all watched Queen Apailana struggling in the Stormtroopers’ grasp. Unfortunately the combination of the screaming crowd and the camera angle didn’t permit them to tell exactly what insults she was undoubtedly hurling against the Empire. “But I never imagined it would be so impressive.”

On the screen, Queen Apailana fell unconscious and the line of Stormtroopers gave way under the mob’s assault. Then the recording went blank.

Admiral Ackbar was frowning at the screen. “It does not matter. The Empire will respond with destruction.”

“Doesn’t it always?” Mon Mothma sat back in her chair. “Unfortunately, our spies in Imperial Center agree with you. The Emperor is dispatching the _Devastator_.”

Admiral Ackbar’s frown deepened. The _Devastator_ \- Darth Vader’s personal flagship - had already earned its name several times over. “This is terrible news. The Emperor has been expanding his reach in the Outer Rim for months. With Naboo under his direct control, he could use it as a base to assault even more worlds.”

“Don’t forget that Naboo has been a symbol for other isolated worlds ever since it fought off the Trade Federation,” Mon Mothma reminded the others. “If Naboo falls, many others will give up hope.”

The third being in the room, Bail Organa, said nothing. He had known from the moment he heard of this that the Empire would respond in force. He had guessed long ago that the Emperor would have dispatched Darth Vader to subdue the planet. He just didn’t see what any of them could do about it.

The Rebel Alliance was already thinly stretched trying to sabotage the Empire’s activities on a hundred planets. Vader had nearly blown up _Home One_ last week before they’d distracted him with the ‘Kenobi Gambit’. They had no operatives to spare for Naboo.

“If only Obi-Wan were here,” he murmured to himself. But no one had seen or heard of Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi for six years. Bail had never forgiven himself for letting the man fly off into the Unknown Regions all alone. He should have known better than to let one of the last Jedi and two newborn children go into such a savage, uncivilized part of space.

His comlink beeped. Sadly resigned to the thought that his old friend must be long dead, Bail picked it up and glanced at the message.

Then he read the message again.

He looked up at the other two, still not quite believing it. “Obi-Wan is coming back!”

Mon Mothma’s blue eyes widened. “General Kenobi is coming to join us?”

Bail stared at the message. “I don’t know that, but the beacon on the ship I gave him six years ago just alerted me that it’s re-entered Imperial Space.”

His mind was reeling. Obi-Wan was _alive_. They still had a Jedi Master on their side. And if Obi-Wan was alive, that meant Padme’s children must be safe, wherever they were, because Bail knew that his friend would have died before he let any harm come to those two young ones.

Bail had seen for himself that even Jedi younglings could accomplish feats that experienced warriors could not. If the children were safe, that meant that in a few years’ time… the galaxy would be defended by not one, but _three_ powerful Jedi.

Bail could feel relief for his long-lost friend, and for the little girl who had almost been his daughter, and her brother. But there was also something else, which he hadn’t truly felt since the first regiment of Imperial Stormtroopers landed on Alderaan.

Hope.

He expected to see Mon Mothma looking as overjoyed as he felt, but instead her expression grew thoughtful. “General Kenobi is familiar with Naboo, isn’t he? The Naboo trust him as a hero, he has many friends there… and he’s the only one who’s ever defeated Vader.”

Bail stared at her, surprised. “If Obi-Wan joins the Rebellion, we need him here in a strategic role, not risking his life! He’s the only Jedi Master we have left!”

“We cannot let Queen Apailana’s courage and conviction go to waste.” Mon Mothma had a familiar scheming gleam in her eyes now. “Think about it, Bail. Our agents can spread the video of her electrocuting Tarkin all over the Empire. We can turn her and Naboo into the symbol of the Rebellion. And then if we save Naboo from Vader’s destruction, just imagine how many we could inspire…”

Admiral Ackbar nodded. “Senator Mothma has a point. The Naboo must be helped, and we have no one else. General Kenobi is the only one who can do this.”

Bail didn’t like it at all, but he could see he was outvoted. “Very well,” he sighed at last. “I will send a message to Obi-Wan and ask him to defend Naboo from the Empire.”

_For all our sakes, I hope he ignores it._

 

***

 

“Now commencing landing sequence over Dagobah,” said the carefully modulated voice of the ship’s computer. “Councilor Kenobi, you have 300,306 unread messages. If you would care to…”

Obi-Wan shot a glare at the voice synthesizer and used a subtle application of the Force to shut it off. For some reason Bail Organa’s ship computer was determined to remind him of six years’ worth of unread holonet messages. If Anakin had been here, he would have reprogrammed it to play podracing games by now.

Anakin again. Anakin had been such a strong Padawan, such a brave Knight. There was no doubt that he was the Force’s Chosen One; the more Obi-Wan had studied the Prophecy of the Chosen One, the more he had grown convinced that Anakin fulfilled it perfectly. Anakin had been meant to save the Jedi, destroy the Sith, and bring Balance to the Force. It was he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had ruined everything by not teaching him properly.

With a perfectly timed hiss of thrusters, The _Luminous Being_ descended slowly onto the only piece of dry land on Dagobah.

“Perfect landing, Padawan!” said Obi-Wan, glad to be distracted from his train of thought. He beamed at Yina, the second of the four padawans he’d selected for this mission. The other four hundred and ninety-six had taken over the responsibilities he’d left behind on Yharyar, looking after their planet, his home and, most importantly, Luke and Leia. “I’m sure Master Yoda is very impressed by your flying skills.”

Meanwhile, Yosyn and Yual ran down the landing ramp as it descended, eager to get their first clear sight of Dagobah. Yara, the eldest, proceeded behind them more cautiously, with one hand resting on each of her lightsaber hilts. They all stopped at the foot of the ramp and peered around in awe.

“Beautiful, it is,” whispered Yosyn. “Mud, I see everywhere! Look - bubbling, the swamp is!” He wrinkled up his round green nose and sniffed the humid air happily. “Better then all the swamps on our planet, this is!” With a great leap, he happily fell into the bubbling mud and began splashing around.

Yara nodded vigorously, though she stayed on dry land. “Very happy Master Yoda must be, to live on such a wonderful world!”

Obi-Wan looked around the ramp, confused. He had expected Yoda to be waiting for them when they arrived. There was no way the old Master could have missed the arrival of five Jedi on his planet, in a galaxy where the bright Force presences of the Jedi Knights were all but gone. He reached out with his mind, casting questing tendrils of the Force in every direction, searching for the elusive presence of his old teacher.

“Master…” Obi-Wan turned around to see Yual pausing in the middle of unloading their supplies. “A bad feeling I have about this.”

Obi-Wan was beginning to have one too. “What sort of bad feeling, Padawan?”

“A feeling as if… as if being watched, I am!” Spinning around suddenly, Yual ignited his orange lightsaber with a _snap-hiss_ , illuminating the branches of a tree beside him. A small figure wrapped in brown rags toppled off a branch with a shrill scream, covering its head in terror at the sight of the lightsaber.

“Master Yoda!” Obi-Wan tried to make his way to Yoda’s side, but the old Master had righted himself and was peering up at them with a cross expression.

Obi-Wan was horrified at the sight. Master Yoda had always been old, but now almost all his hair had fallen out, his eyes were dimmed, and he looked worn and tired, not quite there. He radiated none of the calm and serenity that Obi-Wan was used to sensing from Yoda.

Concealing his worry, Obi-Wan bowed to his old teacher. “It’s good to see you again, Master Yoda,” he said. “I’ve brought my Padawans to meet you. Will you come and see them?”

Whatever reply he was expecting, it certainly wasn’t “ _Yaaaargh!_ ”

Without warning, Yoda let out a horrible screech, sidestepped Obi-Wan and leaped onto the pack that Yual had been unloading. He ripped it apart with his sharp claws, tossing their precious supplies this way and that.

“Hey, stop that!” Yual grabbed Yoda’s shoulders and pushed him off the pack, but not before Yoda had grabbed their fluorescent night-vision lamp. “You give that back!”

“Never will I give it back!” Yoda began whacking viciously at Yual with his stick as Yual made a grab for the lamp. “Mine, mine, mine! Hands off it, you get!”

“No! Stop that you will!” Yual wrestled with Yoda for the lamp. “Our lamp that is! Need it we do to explore this beautiful swamp!”

“You explore? You!” Yoda cracked his stick on Yual’s head. “ _My_ home this is! Not yours!”

“Master Yoda, what are you doing?” Obi-Wan, being by far the biggest person present, bent down and plucked the lamp from both pairs of fighting hands. Yoda let out a frustrated wail and smashed Obi-Wan’s hands with his stick, sending the lamp flying into the distance, spinning round and round until it hit the mud and sank below the surface with a loud _glop_.

“Ow!” Obi-Wan massaged his smarting hands. “Why did you do that, Master Yoda?”

Yoda shuffled forward. “Why? No, no! There is no why!” He shook his stick under Obi-Wan’s nose. “Why _you_ come here, Obi-Wan? Why leave me alone you cannot? Ruining my peace!”

Everyone stared at Master Yoda. Obi-Wan realized that Yina and Yosyn had edged behind the safety of his cloak.

“Ruining _your_ peace!” Yual sat up in the mud and rubbed his head. “To check on you, we came, you crazy old – mmph!”

Yara clamped a hand over his mouth, staring between Obi-Wan and Yoda.

Obi-Wan dropped to one knee in the mud. “Forgive me, Master Yoda. We only came to see if you were all right. I apologize for disturbing your meditations. We will leave at once if you wish.” He glanced around. “Isn’t that right, Padawans?”

“Yes, Master!” agreed Yara. Yina and Yosyn peered out from behind his cloak long enough to nod vigorously.

“Mmmmph!” said Yual, glaring.

Yoda’s anger seemed to deflate. The stick lowered from its place over Obi-Wan’s head, and when Obi-Wan looked up, there was only kindly old, tired Yoda.

The old Master turned around with a long sigh. “Come, come!” he declared, beckoning at all of them. “Time for tea it is. Tea we will have, yes, tea. Much tea!”

With that abrupt declaration, Yoda turned around and padded off through the trees. Obi-Wan was left staring after his retreating figure.

At last he turned around. His four Padawans were standing behind him, staring after the legendary Grand Master of the Jedi with very confused expressions. “Master?” croaked Yina.

Obi-Wan didn’t know what to say. It was obvious that Dooku’s spirit had told him the truth. Not only did Master Yoda appear to be irrational, but in the course of a few minutes he had displayed fear, anger, aggression, attachment, possessiveness… all the clear warning signs of the Dark Side.

This was all his fault, he realized with a familiar sinking feeling. He should have seen that something was wrong, all those years ago. He should not have let Yoda go off all alone.

There was a beep behind him. “Councilor Kenobi, are you leaving?” the ship’s computer warbled. “I must remind you that you now have 300,403 unread messages. I think some of them may be rather important…”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and shut down all the systems on the ship with a flick of his fingers.

“Padawans, you must stay with the ship.” If he was truly dealing with the Dark Side as he feared, he couldn’t let his Padawans be exposed to it. This was his task, and his alone.

He squared his shoulders and began squelching his way through the mud.

Nothing would induce him to leave Master Yoda now.

 

***

 

On board the Imperial Super Star Destroyer _Devastator_ , the door to Darth Vader’s private quarters hissed open.

_Khoo…hhh…khoo…hhh…_

A young Imperial lieutenant entered and saluted with an audible gulp. “Lord Vader, sir, the bridge officer sent me to tell you we will arrive in Naboo orbit in two standard days, sir!”

Darth Vader looked up from his furious brooding. The lieutenant loosened his collar and went on. “Lord Vader, sir, the Emperor has sent you a message! He wishes you strength in this endeavor, and reminds you to focus on the complete and total subjugation of the rebellious Naboo!”

Vader stood up, towering over the hapless messenger, who took a step back. “You may inform the Emperor he will have my complete _focus_ ,” he growled. “Tell him that… the rebellion on Naboo will be utterly _crushed_.” He lifted his right hand and closed the fingers.

The lieutenant emitted a squeak and dashed off.

Vader glared at the door. Sidious had now taken to constantly reminding him of his failures, humiliating him in public. It was yet another of the Emperor’s constant ways of making it clear which of them was the Master.

He was not angry at Sidious - no, he had gone far beyond anger. Right now, he  _hated_  Sidious! Every time he came near his Master, the old man emanated a sense of triumph and deceit. Darth Vader knew that feeling. He’d known it so many times before.

He was the Chosen One and he could sense it in the Force. His Master, Darth Sidious, was plotting against him.

Just like Obi-Wan had plotted against him. And the Jedi Council. And Padmé. Just like every single person he had ever trusted in his life!

He smashed his armored fist down on the table, cracking its plasteel surface from end to end. He would have no mercy on Naboo just because it was _her_ world. Crushing the rebellion on Naboo would not be enough – he would _annihilate_ it! That would make Sidious realize he wasn’t an apprentice to be trifled with. Then he would go after Kenobi again, and any Jedi who still survived, and this time he would crush them too!

If he couldn’t make anyone love him, then he’d make them fear him. And then they would regret not treating him better.

They would all regret it, just before they died screaming.


	3. In Which a King is Found

A landscape of formless gray mist extended in every direction, infinite plumes of smoke swirling and twisting into each other. In the clear center of the mists, a blue glowing figure stretched out its hands, paused for dramatic effect, and swept them open in a grand parting motion.

Nothing happened.

The figure tried again, this time pulling its hands apart with sudden violent force.

Nothing continued to happen.

The figure drew itself straight and pulled a curved cylinder from its ghostly belt. It soundlessly ignited the ghost of its lightsaber. The once blood-red blade was now surrounded by an ethereal blue glow. The spectral figure gave the ex-lightsaber an irritated look and marched directly into the mist, slashing at it with the red-and-blue saber, pushing it apart with hands and feet.

With a loud _splotch_ , the figure was tossed straight back out of the mists, landing flat on its back exactly where it had started. It sat up, fury spreading over its aristocratic features.

“Qui-Gon!” roared the spirit of Count Dooku.

The spirit of Qui-Gon Jinn faded gently into view. Like Dooku, he was surrounded by an unearthly blue glow. Unlike Dooku, his wrists and ankles were also covered in blue ghostly manacles with chains hanging off them. He wore a serene and peaceful smile, as if becoming a blue ghost covered in chains was all he had ever really wanted out of life.

“Yes, my former Master?”

“You will address me simply as _Master_ , or _Your Highness_ ,” Dooku snapped. “You keep forgetting that I am the Emperor of this world!”

Qui-Gon spread his hands apologetically, as far as the manacles would allow. “Forgive me, old friend… it is hard to remember who is what in a world inhabited only by you and me, since we are the only ones to have learned its secrets in the last several millennia.”

“A trifling and temporary detail, Qui-Gon!” Dooku pointed at the walls of mist surrounding them, which were now susurrating in gentle waves, as if daring him to try and pass. “What have you done this time? Why can’t I get back to the living world? Tell me, Qui-Gon!”

“I? I have done nothing this time. How could I?” Qui-Gon shook his manacles in reminder. “I’m afraid this is all the doing of the Force, my old Master.”

“The _Force_ is trying to keep me here?” Dooku turned and stalked toward the mist, impatience radiating off him. “What business of the Force is it whether I go or stay? I am _dead_! I may go where I please!”

“My old Master,” said Qui-Gon soothingly, “Before you died, you turned to the Dark Side, joined the Sith, and started a war that killed billions and led to the massacre of the Jedi… do you think it so unreasonable that the Force might have some issues with letting you return to meddle in the living world?”

“I have to leave!” Dooku punched the wall of mist, drawing all the power of the Dark Side into his fist. A small cloud of mist detached, shaped itself into the image of a laughing face, and dissipated before he could punch it again. “Sidious could have discovered Master Yoda even as we speak!”

“I fail to see the problem... from your perspective. Wouldn’t you be glad to see both your old Masters together?”

“Do not call Sidious my Master!” Dooku roared, spinning back to face Qui-Gon. “He lied to me, manipulated me, and betrayed me for that crude, pathetic slave Skywalker! Sidious is a vile, treacherous piece of Sith… excrement, Qui-Gon! He will _not_ sink his claws into Yoda while I am dead!”

A bemused smile was playing across Qui-Gon’s face. “I have never seen you so agitated in life, my old Master… is this lingering compassion for your beloved teacher? I thought the Sith were beyond such things?”

“Be silent, Qui-Gon, unless you can help me figure out how to stop this!”

Qui-Gon lifted his manacled hands. “Well, as long as you keep me in my present state I don’t see what I can do. I suppose I could meditate on it…”

“Then stop talking and _meditate,_ Qui-Gon!”

 

***

 

Obi-Wan trudged on through the trees, following the trail left in the Force by Master Yoda’s passage. He frowned at how easy it was. Master Yoda should be shielding his presence at all times. This was just short of an open invitation to the Sith. Even more worrying was that the Force was not filled with light and peace as it had always been in Yoda’s presence; the path he followed through the swamp was shadowed and split, the familiar aura of an abandoned battlefield.

The trees parted and Obi-Wan found himself in a misty clearing, standing before the dark opening of a cave. This must be where Master Yoda had made his home.

It did not look like a pleasant place. “Master Yoda?” he called.

There was no answer. Obi-Wan took a step further in, passing under the shadow of the cave, and stopped suddenly.

The Force coiled and folded into itself around the entrance, compressed into a tight knot of fear and sadness and anger. Obi-Wan put his hand on the hilt of his lightsaber, fighting to shield his mind against the onslaught of the Dark Side.

The cave was a vergence in the Force, a place of Darkness. Why would Master Yoda live here? What dark force had dragged him here?

Obi-Wan took a step back and activated his comlink.

“Master?” said Yina.

“Padawans,” said Obi-Wan, putting on his most reassuring, authoritative voice, the one Anakin had called his I-am-a-member-of-the-Jedi-Council-and-I-know-more-than-you voice, “You may sense some disconcerting feelings in the Force. Ignore them and stay with the ship, do you understand? You are under _no_ circumstances to follow me.”

“Master?” squeaked Yina. “What – what _is_ it?”

He heard Yual’s deeper voice. “Master! Doing what are you? In _trouble_ are you?”

“Don’t be so enthusiastic about it, Padawan,” he said, smiling. “I’m in no more trouble than is usual-” _from a certain point of view_ – “but you will be in very great trouble if you come after me, is that understood?”

“Councilor Kenobi!” an automated voice broke in. “I really must inform you of the arrival of the 300,631st message in your inbox. For a Jedi Council member, I must say, you are being astonishingly irresponsible-“

“Ship,” said Obi-Wan in a gentle voice, “I am busy. If you say _one_ more word about unread messages, I will reprogram every last one of your vocal synthesizers with a fully powered lightsaber. Now, is that understood?”

There was a stunned silence from the ship, and from Yual, a plaintive, “But, _Master_ -“

Yara’s authoritative voice cut him off. “Understood, Master. May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, my Padawans.” Obi-Wan shut off the comlink and returned it to his belt. His smile disappeared as he turned to back to the cave.

“I’m coming, Master Yoda.”

Hand firmly tightened around the grip of his lightsaber, anchoring him to the Light, Obi-Wan entered the cave.

Darkness engulfed him as soon as he stepped through. It made no sense, because there should be light coming through the entrance he had just passed, but for whatever reason he could not see anything.

“Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!” came a dreadful high-pitched voice, echoing eerily around the cave.

“Master Yoda?” he called again, walking further in. “Are you all right?”

“Heh-heh-heh-heh!” came the evil cackle.

Obi-Wan lit his lightsaber. Blue light illuminated the empty walls of the cave. He took another step forward, and another, listening intently.

_Khoo…hhh…khoo…hhh…_

Obi-Wan raised his lightsaber instinctively as a towering black figure emerged from the shadows. It was a humanoid figure, but one seven feet tall and built like a tank, encased in metal armor from head to toe, even its breath rasping through mechanical filters. Worst of all, the Dark Side surrounded it, rage and hatred and blood-thirst boiling like a fiery corona.

The black figure came fully into the light of his saber. He recognized it, and lowered the blade.

“Oh, Anakin,” he said sadly to the Anakin-thing in front of him. “What have they done to you? You sound like Qui-Gon’s faulty old vacuum cleaner.”

The Anakin-thing ignited a gleaming lightsaber, the color of blood. “We will meet again, Obi-Wan,” its mechanical voice rumbled, every syllable laden with hatred. “And this time, _I_ will be the Master.”

“I am sorry for you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied. “I failed you, and I am sorry. We will meet again someday, and I promise I’ll do my best to end your misery this time.” He offered his former Padawan a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay then, I promise. You’ll be with the Force.”

The Anakin-thing just stared at him through its black optic enhancers. _Khoo…hhh…khoo…hhh…_ It looked miserable and confused, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to go and pat it on the back. Then it vanished into thin air.

“Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!” the evil cackle rang out once again, and Obi-Wan abruptly realized that he’d made a mistake.

Anakin’s appearance had been only the opening salvo of the Darkness, intended to throw him off guard. The real danger was still to come. He snapped up his lightsaber-

Tap, tap, tap.

-and cast its blue light on the figure that had just emerged from the shadows.

Master Yoda padded forward, leaning on his stick. His smile was welcoming, but the look in his eyes was strangely lost.

“Come, come, Obi-Wan!” he called. “A Jedi Master you are, loiter outside you should not! In you come!”

This wasn’t a Yoda-thing. This was Yoda. Obi-Wan followed, confused, into the back of the cave.

There was hardly anything there – not even a pallet to lie on. Just a barrel of what seemed to be water and some fruit peels littering the corner. Where were the supplies Bail Organa had given?

Yoda had stopped and was peering curiously at his face. “Tea, do you want, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan looked around the cave again. Master Yoda had always loved tea – if anything, it was the ancient Jedi’s one weakness. He never refused the offer of tea, and always offered tea to everyone who came to visit. But Obi-Wan could see no tea leaves or heating apparatus in the cave, not even anything to light a fire with.

He bowed. “Yes, Master. I would be very grateful for some tea.”

Yoda beamed and shuffled over to a corner of the cave. After a few minutes he shuffled back and ceremoniously handed Obi-Wan a cup of water. Obi-Wan extinguished his lightsaber, sat down cross-legged and sipped delicately at the tepid water.

“Good it is that you have come, Obi-Wan,” beamed Yoda, bustling about with his own cup of water. “Come to seek my counsel, have you? Council meeting we have this evening. Concerned about it are you?”

Obi-Wan blinked. “Council meeting, Master?”

“Forgotten, have you?” Yoda chortled. “So old, you are not! Discuss Count Dooku, we must!”

“Count Dooku? Well, actually, he has been acting rather strange of late.”

“Hope I have, Obi-Wan.” Yoda shuffled back toward him. “Fall to the Dark Side so completely, my Padawan would not. Convince him to return to the Jedi, we can. But believe me, Master Windu does not!”

Obi-Wan was seriously worried now, not to mention confused. The anger and possessiveness he’d seen earlier was all gone, and now this… whatever it was, it was even worse. Refusal to acknowledge an unpleasant reality was a sign of attachment to the past and a certain path to the Dark Side.

Obi-Wan didn’t know what else to do. “There is no Council meeting, Master Yoda. There is no Council and no Jedi Order. They are all gone.” As an afterthought, he pointed to the cup of water and added, “There is also no tea.”

Yoda stopped dead in the middle of his shuffling. He turned slowly to Obi-Wan, eyes wide with shock. “All… gone?”

“Every last one of them, Master.”

Yoda lowered his green head and peered into his own cup. “… Tea?”

“Your tea cupboard burned down with the rest of the Temple.” Sighing but knowing that Yoda must confront the harsh truth, Obi-Wan reached through the Force and sent the ancient Jedi an image of the burning Temple, and of the smoke rising from the tower where Yoda had kept his quarters –

\- just above the younglings’ nursery.

Yoda’s eyes gleamed with a feral spark of gold in the darkness. Obi-Wan stood up, alarmed.

Yoda threw his walking stick at Obi-Wan’s head.

Obi-Wan dropped a second before he would have been decapitated. He rolled over on his back and looked up at an advancing fury.

“Dead they are! All dead!” Yoda summoned his stick to his hand and pressed it over Obi-Wan’s chest. “Dead is the Republic, dead are the Jedi! All things die, all things burn, except Yoda! Yoda stays while temples fall, while Sith rise and planets die and stars burn out!”

Obi-Wan tried to rise, only to be shoved down with a vicious jab of the stick. “Where you were, Obi-Wan, hmm?” Yoda’s eyes gleamed with an unbelievable rage. “Where you were when they died? _Where you were?_ ”

Obi-Wan held his ground. “There is no death, there is only the Force. They are at peace, Master Yoda – it’s the living Empire that we need to stop.”

Just as suddenly as it had come, the darkness was gone, wrapped up and pushed away, and there was only old Yoda peering down at him with a sad wrinkled smile. “Wise you have become, Obi-Wan. Wiser than me, hmm?”

Obi-Wan removed his hand from his lightsaber, which he hadn’t even noticed holding. “It could never be so, Master.”

“Heh-heh-heh!” Master Yoda chortled. Obi-Wan looked up with a sudden shiver. “Too modest you are, Obi-Wan! Silly it is. Done lying on ground, are you? To council meeting we shall go?”

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly.

Master Yoda removed his stick from Obi-Wan’s chest and crossed his hands, leaning on it for support. He smiled at Obi-Wan. “Late we should not be. Class I have to teach afterwards. Wait for me the little ones will. Disappoint them I should not, hmm?”

Obi-Wan stopped, suddenly, and blinked tears out of his eyes. He rested on one knee instead, and held out a hand to Yoda.

“Yes, Master. We won’t disappoint them.”

 

***

 

In the throne room of Theed Royal Palace, General Panaka, the Chief of the Naboo Royal Guard, faced the Royal Council of Naboo. Only a slight waver in his voice betrayed his appearance of composure. “We have received word that the _Devastator_ left Imperial Center forty-eight standard hours ago.” he announced. “It was last seen in the vicinity of Lazarian, from where seven hyperspace jumps will bring it to Naboo.”

Sio Bibble’s wrinkled hands were shaking as badly as his voice. “It can’t be. This can’t be happening to us. Surely –“

“Lord Vader was seen boarding the ship before it left,” Panaka continued.

Silence descended. Everyone present knew that Darth Vader’s imminent arrival on a planet – any planet - heralded only one thing. Massive, merciless bloodshed.

General Panaka looked at the pale, upturned faces around the table. "Well, honestly, what did you _expect_?" he demanded. "Our people rebelled and _forced the Empire off our planet_. You know what's happened to every other planet that's tried that, don't you?"

Sio Bibble drew himself up. "We are sworn to follow the commands of our Queen, General! Our heroic, noble, valiant Queen Apailana, whose name shall ever after be counted among the great of Naboo, who clearly desired us to-"

“Yes, what _about_ her?” demanded one of the Royal Handmaidens. “Can we not save her before it is too late?”

“I’m afraid not.” Panaka bowed his head. “Tarkin and his Stormtroopers took Queen Apailana with them when they fled Naboo. She will probably be taken back to Imperial Center for a ceremonial execution.”

The Handmaidens exchanged horrified looks. A ceremonial execution before the Emperor was a slow and painful process. “What _can_ we do?” they asked at last.

Panaka answered tonelessly. “Our only choice is to go down fighting. In memory of our beloved and heroic Queen Apailana, who - as Prime Minister Bibble says - will be remembered as the greatest defender of Naboo’s ideals, alongside Queen Amidala herself.”

Sio Bibble bent forward. “Do you think the Rebel Alliance…”

“They cannot possibly have any soldiers to spare. And the Jedi are no more.”

There was silence in the room, as they all remembered that the Jedi were no more because of the treachery of one of their own people. _Palpatine._

At last the youngest of the Handmaidens turned to the only being at the table who had not spoken. “What do _you_ think, Senator?”

“Yes!” Sio Bibble nodded desperately. “You have the best knowledge of the Emperor and his inner circle. Please tell us, Senator! Is there no escape?”

All eyes turned to Jar Jar Binks, Naboo’s representative to the Imperial Senate.

Jar Jar Binks was scared. Naboo was _really_ in danger this time. This time there would be no Jedi to fly in and save them all. No scary Master Qui to guard the Queen, no clever Obi to cut up the ugly assassin, no sweet little Ani to deactivate all the droids. This time Naboo was on its own.

In Gungan parlance, they were all gonna be in for a _beeg_ _ouch-time_.

But Jar Jar wasn’t afraid for very long. It was not in his nature to dwell on fear for long; actually, it was not in his nature to dwell on _anything_ for long. He always lived in the present moment, simply because he’d never thought of any other way to live.

Perhaps he might have come up with another way if he had ever thought about it for long enough; but he did not do this thing.

If he _had_ dwelt on the past - which he did not - he might have thought of Padmé Amidala; and Padmé Amidala, over thirteen years of kind and patient friendship, had taught him that there was no problem, however big, that could not be solved by diplomacy.

And if he had dwelt on the past for a while longer, he might have remembered the time he had ignored what she taught him, and offered dictatorial emergency powers to a ruler who had used them to massacre the Jedi; which might, from a certain point of view, make _him_ the reason why there were no Jedi to save the day, and therefore the reason why Naboo was in imminent danger of, to put it finely, _ouch-time_.

But he did not dwell on the past, so he did not think these things.

Instead he cast around for something to say, and said, as he generally did, the first idea that came to his head.

“Weesa must _negotiate_ ,” he said.

“Yes!” Sio Bibble nodded. “That is very wise. We must at least make an attempt at diplomacy. But who will negotiate with Lord Vader on our behalf?”

The Handmaidens whispered to each other. “Senator Binks is right,” one of them announced. “We are Naboo, not savages. We must attempt diplomacy before war.”

“Disloyal as it seems, if we are to save our people’s lives, then we must distance ourselves from the brave Queen Apailana. We have to show the Empire our complete loyalty and obedience. We must elect a new ruler.”

“There is no time to hold a general election,” Sio Bibble said. “But in an emergency, this council has the authority to nominate one of its own members as interim ruler.”

“Emergency powers?” yelped Jar Jar. “Ruling without election? Meesa not liking the sound of this!”

“But it was you who _suggested_ it, Senator…”

“We must nominate someone who has previous experience dealing with galactic leaders,” said Panaka slowly. “Yet it must also be someone who will not seem like a threat. Someone who will convince the Empire that we are innocent, and harmless, and no possible danger to them…”

Jar Jar looked at Panaka a little helplessly. “But… but… whoosa yousa thinking of?”

It was a long minute before Jar Jar realized that everyone was looking at him.

It struck him momentarily that they were in for a _berry_ _beeg_ _ouch-time_ indeed.

 

 


	4. In Which the Teacher Returns

Obi-Wan returned to the ship to find his Padawans clustered in the control room. “Master!” said Yina, her large green eyes shining with relief. “Um, talk to Master Yoda did you?”

Obi-Wan trudged through the door and dropped into the only human-sized chair. “Yes, Padawan. I did.”

Yual jumped off the control panel and onto his own seat. “So, wrong with him what is?”

“I wish I could figure that out, Padawan.” Obi-Wan rubbed his head, feeling a massive headache coming on. He’d spent the last hour sitting silently while Yoda conducted an entire Jedi Council meeting all by himself, complete with eerily accurate imitations of all the other Councilors and a protracted argument with ‘Mace Windu’, during which Yoda threw his stick across the makeshift Council Chamber and his eyes started glowing yellow at the edges again. Fortunately Obi-Wan had managed to escape the ‘younglings’ class’ afterwards.

“Half the time he’s angry and irrational,” he muttered to himself. “And the other half of the time he’s in denial, acting as if the Jedi Order still exists.” Where was he supposed to start? How could he help Master Yoda if he didn’t even have a clue what was going on?

There was a loud beep. They all turned around to see text scrolling over the console.

_Welcome back, Councilor Kenobi. You now have 300,816 unread messages. Please note that I am not saying anything or using my vocal circuits at all. I really should inform you-_

“Right.” Obi-Wan stood up. “Open up the databanks, Padawan, I’m reprogramming this ship.”

“But Master!” Yual burst out. “Sending you messages people are! Sending you messages all week they have been! And dismiss them is all you do! A Jedi you are! Supposed to be _compassionate_ aren’t you?”

Yosyn hesitated. “Cries for help they could be, Master. Refuse to listen, how can you?”

Obi-Wan blinked down at them in amazement. Cries for help? Honestly?

Most of the time, he was glad to be training his padawans on an isolated swamp planet. It kept them safe and free from distractions. But every once in a while there was a moment when he realized they were missing important parts of their education, which they would need to survive in the larger galaxy.

“Pay attention, Padawans. This is an important lesson for your future as Jedi Knights. _Never_ check your holonet inbox. Get a droid to do it, or a secretary, or your padawan, but only if you want to truly punish him or her.”

“Why, Master?” asked Yosyn, utterly confused.

“I think you should learn this one for yourself, Padawan.” Obi-Wan entered his passwords, opened the still-secure triple-coded Jedi Council security lock on his account, and stepped back. All four padawans instantly ran to the data terminal while he settled back in his chair and closed his eyes. Listening was bad enough; even for the sake of instruction, he drew the line at actually _looking_ at the holos.

“ _Want deathsticks cheap and easy? No Imperial complications! Smoke, sniff, or syringe, in twenty flavors! Put your trust in Greeda the Hutt! --_

\-- _I hope you die, you kriffing Jedi traitor! Everything that’s wrong with the Empire is because of you and your fat arrogant kind, plotting and scheming in your Temple! I bet Darth Vader tracks you down and gives you the thrashing you deserve_ \--

\-- _All you have to do is subscribe to this newsletter and get_ _10,000 cute pictures of baby banthas every day! All the pictures of adorable baby banthas you ever wanted_ \--

_\-- Dear_ _Master Kenobi, I know you’re still alive, I just know it! You’re far too brave to ever die! I dream of you every night, I just know it can’t be my imagination! Please, please, if you see this message, call me at --_

\-- _Just look at this baby bantha rolling in the sand! Ooh, it thinks that sand dune is its mommy! Isn’t this just adorable_ \--

\-- _Dear Brother, I need your help to recover three million credits stored in the Mercantile Bank of Cato Neimoidia_ –“

Obi-Wan sat back and listened to his Padawans’ horrified whispers. He smiled to himself, remembering all the times in his childhood when his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had made Obi-Wan sort and index his entire inbox as penance for some horrible impertinence.

“Wear more clothes than that, I thought humans did…?”

“Er, biologically impossible, I think that is…”

“Augh! Turn that off! Turn that off!”

“Never opening a holonet account, I am!”

“ _Obi-Wan.”_

Obi-Wan’s eyes shot open.

Yosyn turned around from the terminal, wide-eyed. “Master, understand I do, sorry I said anything I am!”

“ _Obi-Wan._ ”

Obi-Wan threw out a hand just as the Padawans moved to shut off the holonet.

“Obi-Wan,” said the flickering hologram of Bail Organa. “I am more glad than I can say, my friend, to know that you are alive and returning to us. These six years under the rule of the Sith have been terrible. Basic freedoms have been suppressed across the galaxy, entire species have been enslaved, and it grows worse every day. The Naboo have rebelled against the Empire, and the Empire will respond any day now. We believe that even at this moment, Darth Vader is leading an army of Stormtroopers to punish the people of Naboo.”

Bail Organa’s face was creased with worry, his eyes tired, his voice pleading as he spoke.

“Help the Naboo, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re their only hope.”

 

***

 

The spirit of Count Dooku sat on a wispy gray cloud with his head resting on his arms. He looked battered and bruised, as if he had spent the last several hours being thrown off walls like a ghostly blue bouncing ball.

“Well, Qui-Gon?” he demanded. “Have you come to gloat over my failure? Or have your meditations given you some great insight to share?”

The spirit of Qui-Gon Jinn, manacled and chained, materialized fully beside him. “Yes, my former Master,” Qui-Gon answered with a serene smile. “The Force has given me an answer.”

Dooku was on his feet in an instant. “An answer? What answer? Tell me at once!”

“The Force tells me that it will permit you to visit the land of the living again, my old Master – but you must do something for it first.”

Dooku’s eyes flashed angrily. “I am not returning to the Light, Qui-Gon! I have seen through the weak and foolish lies of the Jedi, and I will not change my mind!”

Qui-Gon held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “The Force does not require you to change your mind, or your nature. But it does require atonement for your actions.”

“In what manner?” Dooku demanded.

“You are required to train a Force-sensitive being - an apprentice. But there’s a catch. You must train him in the Light side of the Force.”

Dooku looked furious. “I am a _Sith_ , Qui-Gon! A Sith! If you want another baby Jedi, send him to Master Kenobi!”

Qui-Gon’s expression remained serene and peaceful. “It’s not me, my old Master, it’s the Force… and I’m afraid Master Kenobi has quite a lot on his plate right now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Dooku glared at him suspiciously. “What are you plotting, Qui-Gon?”

“Plotting, my former Master?” Qui-Gon’s eyes twinkled innocently. “Nothing at all. After all, nobody is asking you to follow the Light Side yourself. You just have to _pretend_ to be a Jedi long enough to train your apprentice. You are a fine actor – did you not pretend to fight a war against Chancellor Palpatine while you were actually his apprentice? I am certain you remember the Jedi teachings well enough to do it. After all, you taught them to me – and biased though I am, I happen to think you did a very fine job of it - ”

“I don’t have time to train an apprentice, Qui-Gon!"

"- and I must say, my old Master, I have always suspected that you  _enjoyed_ teaching -"

" _Qui-Gon!_  Do I have to remind you that Yoda is in danger _now?_ ”

“You don’t have time to train an apprentice properly,” Qui-Gon agreed cheerfully. “But as a teacher of great experience, you surely know that in an emergency situation, with a dedicated student, the basic skills of the Jedi can be taught in a week of intensive training. The rest may be left to practice and experience.”

Dooku looked displeased, but he did not snap again. “Humph! Who am I to train in this shoddy way? Not some slave boy from the Outer Rim, Qui-Gon. Unlike you, I have standards. I am a Count, after all.”

“No, no, not at all, my old Master,” said Qui-Gon soothingly. “Would I ever trick you so cruelly? The sentient you are to train is none other than the King of Naboo.”

Dooku rubbed his ghostly white beard and considered the matter grudgingly. To train a King would be quite socially acceptable, even for a Count of the highest Galactic rank like him, and Naboo’s monarchs were always young, intelligent, and from ancient and noble families. Even Padmé Amidala, despite her foolish idealism, had always been pleasingly dignified and well mannered.

He fixed Qui-Gon with a fierce stare. “Very well, Qui-Gon. You may inform the Force that I accept.”

Qui-Gon smiled. “The conditions are these, my old Master. You will not be able to return to the Netherworld of the Force during the training of your apprentice, nor will you be able to communicate with anyone in either world other than your apprentice. Only once he passes a Jedi Trial will you be allowed to communicate with others, including Yoda.”

Dooku nodded firmly. He raised his eyes and addressed the formless mists. “It shall be so.”

Suddenly there was a flash of light and a loud peal of thunder. The clouds flew apart, and a path cleared between them.

The spirit that had once been Jedi Master Dooku went in search of his last Padawan.

The spirit that was still Qui-Gon Jinn sat back on a carpet of swirling smoke, and chuckled softly to himself.

 

***

 

“Master? Going, are we?”

“Of course we are! Jedi, we are! Master, going to help we are, aren’t we?”

“…Master?”

Obi-Wan stood silently outside the ship, hands folded into the sleeves of his cloak, staring into the bubbling swamp.

He had a duty as a Jedi, to help the innocent people of Naboo and the Rebel Alliance. He had a duty as a warrior, to fight the Empire.

But he had come to help Master Yoda.

If Master Yoda truly fell to the Dark Side, the damage would be far worse than anything that could happen on Naboo. How could he go to Naboo when the entire galaxy was at risk here on Dagobah?

He had a _personal_ duty to stop Darth Vader’s rampage of destruction.

But his Padawans were not trained for war. Luke and Leia were only six. It was far too early for him to get involved with the Rebellion or the Empire.

He couldn’t let millions of people suffer when he had been asked to help.

And yet he also had a duty to protect and teach his five hundred padawans. He could not risk his life while their training was incomplete – and if he went to the same planet as Darth Vader, well, he would certainly _attempt_ to end Anakin’s misery, but it wasn’t like he could guarantee success. After all, Anakin was now a giant walking battle tank.

Obi-Wan knew exactly what he had to do. His duty was clear. The only problem was that he didn’t want to do it.

“Master?” peeped Yina from down by his boot.

He could sense what they wanted. Yual was practically bouncing on his clawed toes. Yina was nervous, Yara determined, Yosyn curious and excited. But they were all loyal, obedient Padawans, looking at him for orders.

He didn’t want to do this to them.

But he had to.

He breathed slowly, releasing his fear into the Force. Then he turned around. “Padawans,” he intoned solemnly. “The Jedi Order calls you to service. While I look after Master Yoda, the four of you must protect the planet of Naboo from the Empire.”

Four pairs of luminous green eyes lit up with delight. “ _Yes_ , Master!”

“Remember,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “This is a difficult and dangerous mission. All of you must stay together and help each other if you are to succeed. Work together, work secretly and avoid detection at all costs. We are not yet ready to reveal our presence to the Sith.”

They nodded brightly, enthusiastically. “You must leave at once if you are to reach Naboo before the Empire,” Obi-Wan said, trying very hard to project confidence instead of worry. “I have taught you everything you need to know. Trust in the Force, in each other, and in your instincts. Is there anything you want to ask me before you leave?”

The four Padawans exchanged suddenly concerned looks. Though they were excited about their first galactic mission, Obi-Wan was glad to see that they also understood its seriousness. They knew this could be the last time they spoke to their beloved teacher.

Four small green heads bent together, and for a few seconds there was a flurry of animated whispering.

“Ask him you should!”

“No, ask him _you_ should!”

Obi-Wan waited patiently. It was Yina who was finally elected to speak. “Master, umm…” she twisted her claws together. “Always a question we have had… want to know we do, but rude it is…”

Obi-Wan nodded reassuringly. “I will not be angry, Padawan.”

“Master… why always talk backward you do?”

Ah. _That_ question. This would be a difficult lesson.

Obi-Wan knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder. “My dear young Padawan,” he said, smiling. “You are about to discover that many of the truths we cling to depend _greatly_ upon our point of view.”

 


	5. In Which a Voice is Heard

Lieutenant Lamb was a good and loyal officer of the Empire.

His parents had been loyalists of Emperor Palpatine even before he _became_ Emperor Palpatine. He himself was one of the first graduates of the Emperor Palpatine Military Academy, where his loyalty and dedication had been judged so great that he had been chosen for special training in counter-rebel, and even _counter-Jedi_ operations.

Lieutenant Lamb was a _believer_ in the Empire. That was why he had been so proud when his superiors on Coruscant offered him an appointment on the _Devastator,_ the flagship of Lord Darth Vader himself.

Lieutenant Lamb was an _idiot_.

As things had turned out, Lieutenant Lamb was the pride of his parents and the envy of all his classmates, because he had risen three places in rank in just two years of service aboard the _Devastator_. He told everyone that he’d been promoted so fast because of Lord Vader’s personal attention.

After all, Lord Vader had paid personal attention to his superiors.

Lieutenant Lamb had been promoted to his present post as Assistant Bridge Officer a little over six months ago. He had celebrated his exalted rank by dragging his predecessor’s body into the specially installed extra-large freezing unit, removing the rank bars from the corpse’s uniform and pinning them on himself. Then he had signed off duty for the evening and stumbled his way into the darkest cantina on recently subjugated Corellia.

After a few drinks he’d decided to just not go back to the _Devastator_. Either some surviving Corellian rebel would notice an Imperial officer in a vulnerable position, or the Military Police would come for him and shoot him, but either way was better than getting his neck snapped in the invisible grasp of a homicidal maniac Sith Lord.

That was when he had heard the voice.

In his counter-Jedi training at the Academy, he had heard clone troopers tell stories of Jedi Generals who heard their mystical Force like a gentle whisper in their minds: guiding them out of danger, telling them secrets, saving them from apparently certain death. That was what eventually made them such effective terrorists. He’d never believed in the power of a single voice, though, until one saved his life.

The voice had sidled up to him at the bar, and whispered in his ear: “You wanna buy some deathsticks?”

Two hours later, he had returned to the _Devastator_ and floated past the looming figure of Darth Vader, almost unconsciously snapping off a salute as he glided feather-light across the lurid pink bridge, carried on the ethereal wings of dancing stars.

In short: Lieutenant Lamb was, at the tender age of twenty-one, a hopeless drug addict.

When Lord Vader roared in rage, and the ship’s reinforced hull creaked under the force of his power, Lieutenant Lamb took a sniff of a deathstick and smiled while others shivered; when Lord Vader raised his metallic hand and the officer next to him turned blue in the face, Lieutenant Lamb volunteered for body disposal, took an extra-large dose of spice and came back humming a catchy tune.

And so Lieutenant Lamb had survived. Until now.

This time the Emperor had ordered them off Imperial Center so fast he’d had no chance to meet his regular supplier. It had been more than a weeksince he’d managed to get a new batch of _anything_.

He’d thought he could handle it. But he’d been wrong.

He was cracking.

Just last morning a mysterious Alderaanian starskiff had crossed the _Devastator’s_ path. Lieutenant Lamb had carried out a perfect acquisition with the tractor beam and drawn the little ship into the Star Destroyer’s hangar like a spider reeling in a fly. He’d gone personally to inspect his prize…

… and found it empty.

Well, that wasn’t all that strange. The ship must have been flying on autopilot. Maybe its pilot ditched it for a better job, or maybe it was waiting to be picked up by someone else. Anyway, the ship wasn’t important. A ship he was looking for, it wasn’t, so move along, he did.

The point was that as he left the hangar bay, mentally congratulating himself for adding another vessel to the Empire’s vast fleet, he could have _sworn_ he heard a clanking sound in the ventilation shaft above him.

Well, of course it wasn’t real! What was there in a ventilation shaft that could clank, anyway? Imagining things, he was, so move along, he did!

And as if that wasn’t enough, as if his hands hadn’t been shaking in fear already – he could have sworn he heard another creepy, croaky sound, as if some strange creature was _whispering_ in the ventilation shafts.

By the time he signed off his evening shift his hands were shaking so badly he could barely register his fingerprint. Every footstep or mechanical whirr conjured up visions of slime-coated monsters oozing through the ship’s interior, hordes of ravening giant mutant wookies come to rip all their heads off, even - in his worst nightmares - _Jedi._

Well, that could be blamed on his counter-Jedi course at the Academy. He’d been specially taught that Jedi often climbed through ventilation shafts in their attacks. They had been renowned for it!

But then, that was why Lord Vader had ordered all the ventilation shafts on the _Devastator_ to be made half the regular diameter, so that any Jedi who tried to climb through them would get stuck. So obviously there were no Jedi here, much less giant mutant wookies!

That still didn’t stop the nightmares.

Lieutenant Lamb had spent the night burrowed under his blankets, sweating and whimpering in fear, until completely by accident, he had hit the 'check unread messages' button on his holoprojector.

That was when he heard the voice for the second time in his life.

 _"Want deathsticks cheap and easy? No Imperial complications! Smoke, sniff or syringe, in twenty flavors! Put your trust in Greeda the Hutt!_ "  
  
Perhaps the Jedi had been right after all. Perhaps the Force was merciful.

That was why, at 0400 ship hours, Lieutenant Lamb hastened to the storage bay on the lowest level of the _Devastator_. He shoved open the door and fumbled with the light switch until he could see the towering columns of crates stacked against the four walls – and there, in the center of the room, waiting for him right where it was promised, a small bottle of clear golden liquid.   
  
Liquid deathsticks! He was saved! 

He grabbed the bottle and tore open the wrappings. He fumbled with the stopper -

\- when an entirely different voice came over the ship’s intercom.

“All hands, battle stations.  _ETA Naboo, thirty-nine minutes. Lord Vader will make a personal inspection in five minutes... All hands, battle stations.”_

Lieutenant Lamb cursed. He wept. But there was nothing for it. He shoved the precious bottle into the nearest box and sealed it shut.

It wouldn’t take very long, he told himself. Lord Vader would destroy the tiny Naboo defense fleet, bombard a few of the more important cities from orbit, and send down a couple of squads to take the indigenous Gungans as slaves for the Outer Rim mines. Then they’d drop off the Governor and his troops over whatever was left and go home. They’d done it dozens of times. They’d be back to their regular schedule by tomorrow.

Lieutenant Lamb ran to his station as the _Devastator_ prepared to leave hyperspace over Naboo, and paid no attention to the completely and obviously imaginary whispers coming out of the ventilation shafts.

 

***

 

In Darth Vader’s empty quarters, a ceiling panel wobbled slightly, then shifted to one side. Then it was lifted up and out of sight, and a small green head ducked out of the ventilation shaft above.

Green eyes flicked back and forth, checking all corners of the room. Then three figures dropped from the ceiling, landing gracefully on clawed feet.

Yual threw in a couple of backflips, just for fun.

Yara looked impatiently at the hole in the ceiling. “Come on, Yosyn!”

“For me you wait!” Yosyn scampered through the shaft after the other three. He fell straight through, using the Force to catch himself just before he landed on top of Yina.

“Careful you must be!” Yara whispered. “Broken it you might have!”

Yina’s eyes widened. “ _Got_ it have you?”

“Got the anesthetic, I have!” Yosyn reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small glass bottle. “But we overdid the mind tricks, I think. About to fall apart that lieutenant is.”

“Overdo it I did not!” Yara retorted. “Weakest mind I’ve ever seen he has! Anyway, if drop his lightsaber someone would not…” she looked pointedly at Yual.

“Drop my lightsaber I would not,” Yual said, then added: “…unless dropping it down the central reactor core, we were.”

Yosyn’s eyes snapped up. “With everyone still on board?”

Yina looked horrified. “Jedi we are, not murderers! To the Dark Side that path leads, Yual!”

Yual scowled. “A joke it was! And save the Naboo how will we, unless this ship we remove from their system?”

“A plan we have,” Yara interrupted sternly, “and blowing up the ship, it does not involve. Time we have now, while inspect the preparations for war, Vader does. Search these quarters we must. Find what we need before Vader returns!”

With that the four padawans spread out across Vader’s chambers. Yosyn wandered in the center of the receiving room, trying to reach out for the Force.

Yina had managed to hack into the Super Star Destroyer’s computer systems almost as soon as they arrived on board, but there were no maps of Darth Vader’s chambers on its network. Still, what they needed _had_ to be somewhere here.

Yosyn breathed deeply, focusing harder with every breath. The Force had guided him so clearly just a few minutes ago, when he had been searching the medical stores for the anesthetic. It had been like a whisper in his ear, pointing out the right bottle, full of wisdom and kindness - a bit like Master Obi-Wan but without the backward speech and sarcasm. But now it was all murky again.

He slumped against the metal bulkhead, drained. He just couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong. He’d concentrated as hard as he could!

Maybe his best just wasn’t good enough. Maybe _he_ wasn’t good enough to be a Jedi Knight, no matter what Master Obi-Wan said, and he should just go back to his swamp. Stick to growing gnarl trees and playing with the shallow-water fish. That was when the Force seemed to speak to him most willingly, anyway… hey, what was that poking out under his elbow?

That was when the concealed doorway in the wall behind him slid open, dropping Yosyn flat on his back.

“Found it! Found it I have!” Yara, Yina and Yual ran over instantly, Yual almost running over Yosyn in his haste.

Yosyn pulled himself upright and peered around Yara’s shoulder. He gasped. Looming in front of them was a giant black sphere!

“What it is?” he whispered.

“Know I do not,” Yara returned. “Careful we must be, for an artifact of the Dark Side, it could… Yual, wait!”

Yual ran forward and pressed his hands on the sphere. Suddenly there was a low rumbling noise, and something deep within began to move.

“Oh, no, Yual!” moaned Yina. Yosyn watched wide-eyed as the entire upper half and front of the sphere lifted itself off the ground, revealing… an empty black chair?

Yina was the first to recover and figure it out. “Oxygen chamber!” she said, stepping in. “The only place where take off his mask, Vader can! Here, look!” She pressed a contact on the chair. A robotic arm descended from the ceiling of the separated sphere with a hiss, hovering above the chair at the place where Darth Vader’s helmet would be.

“Here!” said Yara, pulling open a stack of drawers with the Force. “Maintenance supplies, for Vader’s mechanical suit!”

Yosyn just stared at the chair with the robotic arm still circling overhead. He wasn’t sure what horrified him more, the sight of the grotesque chamber… or the unexpected pang of sympathy for the insane Sith Lord they were here to stop.

For all that Master Obi-Wan had taught him about serenity, Yosyn was pretty sure _he_ would have a bad temper too, if he was separated from the world by layers and limbs of metal, unable to feel warm mud on his skin ever again, and stuck with lungs that could only handle sterile, deodorized, hyperoxygenated air.

Yina and Yual had joined Yara in rummaging through the drawers, sorting through tins of metal polish and piles of spare parts. It was Yual who finally held up a box, opening it to reveal a stack of small circles of white fibrous material, each one bearing a pair of magnetic clamps to attach it to the end of a pipe.

“Air filters!” Yual grinned at the others. “Now spray Yosyn’s anesthetic on these we will, and so put to sleep the Sith!”

 

***

 

Darth Vader prowled around the _Devastator’s_ bridge, watching the final weapons check before the Super Star Destroyer’s arrival in the Naboo system.

His eyes fell on the lieutenant checking the tractor beam controls at the next station. The man’s hands were wobbling. A bead of sweat trailed down his neck. If it didn’t hurt to move his facial muscles, Vader would have sneered. Such cowardice had no place on the bridge of the most feared starship in the galaxy!

On a better day, Vader would have held out a hand and snapped the man’s sweaty neck there and then. Today he stood still. He wasn’t even sure why.

The truth was that Vader had been uneasy for several days. He had thought that calling for an inspection would help him pinpoint the source of his unease, but he had double-checked every system from the reactor to the fighter bays, peered over every officer’s shoulder until they started gibbering in terror, and yet it only grew.

Vader fumed. He was a Dark Lord of the Sith, not to mention the Chosen One! He might be only the apprentice for now, but soon he would be the Master! He was not supposed to fall prey to vague, nebulous _bad feelings!_

 _Master_ , murmured a soft voice in his head, one he thought he’d forgotten long ago. _I have a bad feeling about this…_

 _You don’t say_ , replied a sarcastic Coruscanti accent, mingling humor with fond exasperation.

Vader slammed his hand against the bulkhead, making the poor lieutenant jump about a foot. He barely noticed. He reached far into the Force, pulling the power of the Dark Side around him. The fear of every soldier on board the ship coalesced around him as he sought out the source of his feeling, the strange disturbance in the Force aboard his ship.

Something familiar - yet something new.

The Force clouded his powers, hoarding its secrets just out of reach. Vader’s rage boiled up, fueling the Dark Side as he tried harder to see -

An indignant croak interrupted him, lashing a crooked walking stick across his efforts. _There is no try!_

Vader snapped out of his trance. What was wrong with him? First Obi-Wan. Now _Yoda!_

It was all because of this cursed planet. He was now absolutely certain that Sidious had sent him here as a punishment. His brain was falling back on all these loathsome memories just to avoid thinking of _her._

Vader spun around and stormed off the bridge in a swirl of black cloak, leaving the astonished crew staring after him.

Forget the inspection! Fear would keep all those foolish officers in line anyway. He would go to his quarters, prepare himself for battle, and meditate upon the infinite power of the Dark Side to crush his enemies.

Surely no _bad feelings_ would dare to disturb him there!

 


	6. In Which the Truth is Glimpsed

Darth Vader strode into his quarters with a furious swish of his cape, just barely avoiding getting it trapped in the sliding door.

_Khoo…hhh…khoo…hhh…_

He marched straight into his private meditation chamber, using the Force to slam the concealed door behind him. He waved a hand to raise the upper half of the oxygen chamber, entered the sphere – and paused.

For a moment there, he had felt a strange sense of… grief, sympathy, even _pity._ It took him a moment to recognize it. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that did not belong in this place.

Something was wrong here. Surely there could be no one else in his private chambers, yet Vader felt as if someone was watching him. He reached out into the Force, trying to identify the source.

All he got in return was a well-known voice, half laughing in his mind. _Padawan, remember our policy? If we sense a trap, we spring the trap._

Vader snapped the connection at once, fury boiling up again. Why was this happening to him?

Neither Yoda nor Obi-Wan was aboard this ship. If they were, Vader was certain he would know it, no matter how well they tried to hide. He had studied with Yoda, and he had lived with Obi-Wan Kenobi, followed him and guarded him and fought by his side, for more than ten years. He had scoured the galaxy for Kenobi ever since. Vader knew that vile traitor’s presence as well as his own.

But every time he tried to pinpoint the mysterious disturbance, the sense that something was wrong, sometimes dispersed and sometimes at one point - the Force clouded his gaze, and all he could come up with were visions of the last two surviving Jedi Masters.

His Master, Darth Sidious, seemed to persist in the bizarre belief that Yoda and Obi-Wan had retired into obscurity and were no longer threats. Vader did not believe it for a moment. Jedi Masters did not _retire_. It wasn’t even a concept among the Jedi. If Yoda and Obi-Wan were not actively running the Rebel Alliance, then it was because they were busy crafting some unseen plot, to destroy the Empire and restore their precious Republic.

Would they now reveal themselves? Was this the plot they had retreated from the galaxy to create? Could _that_ be the secret the Force was trying to hide from him?

Vader paced across his isolation chamber. Kenobi was a cunning strategist; he knew that. It wasn’t impossible that Kenobi and Yoda were planning a simultaneous attack on himself and Sidious, as they had done last time.

Well, if they were, the Empire would be ready for them! Vader moved to the secured communications link and typed in an emergency code for transmission to the Imperial Fleet at Coruscant, warning all Imperial forces on Coruscant to be alert for an imminent Jedi attack.

Yes; the Jedi would not find it so easy to strike at the Empire this time.

That done, Vader settled down in his chair for a full maintenance tune-up, as he always did on the eve of battle. Robotic arms descended from above, removed his helmet, scrubbed and polished his armor, changed his air filters. Vader made sure that last was done properly. In case the ship took a hit in battle, smoke and toxic chemicals could easily damage his burned lungs.

Now proper maintenance was more important than ever before. He needed to be at his most powerful, if there was even a chance that he might be about to face his most hated and most dangerous enemy. This time the last of the Jedi _would_ fall before his power.

Vader felt energized. Not since Mustafar had the power of the Dark Side flowed so clearly through his veins, readying him for battle, for vengeance.

 _The time has come, Obi-Wan,_ he thought _. Soon you will fall to my blade – but not to your death. Death is far too merciful for you. Soon you will suffer as I have suffered._

Darth Vader closed his eyes and drew the power of the Dark Side around him, and in his growing self-absorption, he completely missed the muffled sounds of four small pairs of clawed feet tiptoeing away.

 

***

 

Obi-Wan sat outside his small temporary shelter on Dagobah, carefully examining the objects before him. His padawans had discarded almost everything on board the ship before heading to their rendezvous with the Empire. If all went according to their hastily constructed plan, the ship would be captured and searched by Imperial Stormtroopers soon enough, so there was little use in taking unnecessary possessions along.

Not that Jedi Masters _had_ any unnecessary possessions to begin with, of course.

So the Padawans had left him the shelter and most of their food – and, of course, his completely necessary supply of tea.

While Obi-Wan could not claim to be as great a connoisseur of tea as, say, Master Yoda, he had made sure to secure a collection large enough to sustain himself for a decade, before setting off for the Unknown Regions. Poor Bail Organa had been bewildered by the request – but even Bail would agree that it was well worth it, if it helped save Master Yoda from the Dark Side.

Obi-Wan looked down at the instruments he’d spent the last day carving from Dagobah bamboo. He laid them out on the mat in front of him, in the traditional arrangement; the round bowl in the center of the mat, with the stirring stick to its right and the ladle to its left.

The only thing remaining was the tea itself. Obi-Wan considered the many blends in his extensive collection. There was a decent _tarine_ , unopened, but it was perhaps not the most appropriate choice for this occasion. It was an excellent remedy for motion sickness, though; he’d kept copious supplies on hand whenever he had to fly with Anakin. He had a sharp _yarba_ that Master Yoda favored, but that was said to induce alertness, which was not exactly what Obi-Wan had in mind. Ah, yes - a soothing _jeru_ , from the cloud-mountains of Chandrila, advertised to soothe and relax the mind of every sentient species in the galaxy. Perfect.

Obi-Wan sat and waited patiently outside the entrance of Yoda’s cave, as the sun rose and light spread sluggishly across the misty swamp. At last the old Master emerged, leaning heavily on his stick.

Obi-Wan rose and bowed, in the most formal Jedi style. He could sense the disturbance in the Force around them, the cloud of confusion and fear and despair, feelings he had never before associated with Yoda.

Yoda’s green eyes fixed on Obi-Wan. Slowly, he bowed in return. When Obi-Wan sat down, he followed.

Obi-Wan smiled and began to mix the tea.

The tea ceremony was a part of ancient Jedi culture, valued for its soothing and serene nature, and so practiced by all Masters. It was also an excellent exercise in fine control of the Force, and so was often the first thing taught to particularly impatient Padawans. It was just the thing to bring Yoda’s thoughts back to calmer, more civilized days.

And perhaps, when soothed and relaxed with tea and familiar routine, Obi-Wan might persuade Yoda to open up about what was going on in his mind. After all, he was supposed to be the Negotiator, wasn’t he?

Obi-Wan lifted a hand and gathered the Force around him, and with a precise, well-practiced movement of one finger, the bamboo cup began to heat slowly. One had to be a Master of the Force to produce precisely controlled heat without an incendiary – Anakin, for all his power, had given up on the tea ceremony after a dozen or so exploding bowls. Obi-Wan always got the temperature _exactly_ right.

Steam began to rise from the bowl, fragrant and relaxing. Just the thing to relax Yoda’s fractured mind, to bring him back to the peaceful days of the Jedi Temple, when all seemed well with the galaxy. Obi-Wan could almost see Master Yoda’s chambers, where he had sat so many times as a padawan, sharing tea with his old teacher while discussing some irritation with Qui-Gon or debating the finer points of the Jedi Code.

Everything had changed since then. Now his own padawans were far away, risking their young lives for the duty of the Jedi. His former padawan was one of the most feared Sith Lords to ever walk the galaxy. The Jedi Order had fallen, and the Republic was lost.

Yet here, Obi-Wan thought, there was still tea, and the Force between them, and in that there was still eternity, and safety, and peace.

He could see Yoda relaxing, his eyes closing contentedly and his long green ears drooping. “Fine tea, this is, Obi-Wan,” he murmured. “Fine tea.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Thank you, Master.” He inclined his head and lifted his hands slightly.

The tea bowl rose and floated in the air between the two Jedi Masters, and Obi-Wan whispered the familiar litany of this ceremony. “There is no emotion.”

Obi-Wan could sense the Force calming around them, the bright swamp grasses bending in their direction, the little chittering animals quieting. He could feel his own fear, for his four young and enthusiastic would-be Jedi out on their first adventure, in hostile territory ruled by their enemies, ebbing away with the rising steam. “There is peace. There is no passion.”

There was peace _here_ , but surely not in the rest of the galaxy, unless one considered the iron grip of the Sith’s Empire to be peace. Certainly not on Naboo. Obi-Wan could almost see the ocean world falling to the same fate that had overtaken so many of its neighbors; its people massacred and the survivors turned into slaves to support the Empire’s power-hungry military.

The bowl rotated slowly in the air, tea swirling in the currents of the Living Force. “There is serenity. There is no ignorance.”

The familiar words, and the smell of perfectly brewed tea, and the feeling of calm in the Force - all brought back memories of childhood lessons that Obi-Wan had forgotten. All that was _elsewhere,_ out of his hands. Here and now, there was no war and no Sith; no guilt for all his failures; no fear that he might fail again, and no looming shadow of _Darth Vader_.

Obi-Wan floated the tea bowl over to Yoda so that the elder might take the first sip, and finished the litany at the same time. “There is no death. There is the Force.”

Yoda’s eyes opened into emerald slits. The Force swirling gently around them coalesced into a scream of rage. Obi-Wan reacted just a moment too late.

The bowl of tea exploded.

Fragments of bamboo smashed into Obi-Wan’s stack of tea. Obi-Wan just barely managed to shield himself with the Force before he was drenched with scalding liquid.

Yoda picked up his stick and walked out.

Obi-Wan sat up and stared at the wreck of his shelter, still shuddering from the image of the wrecked Temple, the dead bodies of the Jedi, the screams and the darkness still lingering in the Force.

It had been going so well, and then it had all been wasted. He had failed to soothe Yoda, or to calm his fears, or to distract him -

Obi-Wan paused, then chuckled softly to himself. Really, for an experienced Jedi Master, he still had quite a lot to learn.

Smiling, he began to gather up the fallen pieces and mop up the tea. Time would reveal the fate of Naboo, and the Force would guide his Padawans; Obi-Wan had his task here, and he would try again tomorrow.

No, not try. He would _do_.

 

***

 

The Super Star Destroyer _Devastator_ emerged from hyperspace over the world of Naboo with a soundless flash, and an instant later, its hangar bays opened to release a fleet of smaller craft. The Imperial officers on the bridge watched approvingly as three squadrons of TIE fighters made short work of capturing the few civilian vessels still trying to flee the doomed system.

Only the few ships of the Naboo Defense Fleet were visible as unmoving specks gathered in the distance. Strangely, they had neither attacked nor fled.

Darth Vader should have been pleased with his army’s efficiency, but he was in a foul mood even by his usual standards. There were many reasons for this, but the biggest one was the uninvited presence of Governor Tarkin on his bridge. Not only had the insufferable man turned up despite being confined to a hoverchair with bandaged legs, he had brought along his personal squad of Stormtroopers – and his prisoner, Queen Apailana.

The second reason was the strange feeling that had been growing in the back of his head since he left his chambers, but Vader resolutely ignored that. He was the most powerful Dark Lord of the Sith in ages; he was not prone to pathetic ailments, like feeling _dizzy_!

He looked back at Apailana instead. Vader could hardly believe that this woman was the infamous Rebel Queen whose public defiance had stirred up half the Outer Rim in a matter of days. She looked absurdly small and helpless, standing limply in the center of a ring of Stormtroopers, without her regal face paint and jewels, clad only in a prisoner’s white garb in place of her elaborate costume.

What a pitiful spectacle. _She_ would have stood proudly –

Vader clenched his fists. A small console in the far corner erupted in sparks. This so-called Queen did not deserve her title. He looked forward to watching her suffer in front of the Emperor.

“Lord Vader?” The duty officer turned around. “We have an incoming transmission from the Royal Council of Naboo. Shall I cut it off and begin jamming communications?”

Vader sneered behind his mask. Apparently the Naboo actually hoped to _negotiate_ for their survival. How pathetic. Did they think their sweet, empty _words_ could hold back the justice of the Empire?

“Cut it off, of course,” snapped Tarkin, floating up in his hoverchair. “The Empire has nothing to say to _rebels_.”

Vader glowered at Tarkin, his growing tiredness forgotten for an instant. Who did the man think he was, to give orders on _his_ flagship? Had the rumors of his falling-out with the Emperor spread so far that every Governor in the far-flung corners of the Empire thought he ranked above a Dark Lord of the Sith?

It was _intolerable_! He would demonstrate the power of Darth Vader to Tarkin – and to the entire planet of Naboo, while he was at it!

“Put them on!” he ordered the terrified officer. “And broadcast the communication to the entire planet!”

The officer fiddled with the communications display. It took him three tries to get it right. Vader would have choked him if his annoyance wasn’t focused on Tarkin.

And if he wasn’t feeling so… oddly… _dizzy_ … like the world was spinning around him…

He held on to the railing in the center of the bridge, steadying himself. Finally the lieutenant managed to turn up the image of a white-haired old man in rich formal robes. The Prime Minister of Naboo swallowed audibly at the sight of Darth Vader looming over the receiver, then bowed low until he wobbled.

“L-Lord Vader,” he stammered. “We are honored by your visit and the presence of the Empire. On behalf of the government of Naboo, I wish to disclaim all association with the – “

His eyes widened as he looked to one side and saw Queen Apailana being held by the Stormtroopers. “With - with the traitor, former Queen Apailana. To symbolize our loyalty, we have chosen a new ruler, loyal to the Empire, who will lead us in perfect harmony -”

Vader cut him off. He had no interest in talking to useless functionaries. “ _Where_ is your new ruler?”

Bibble bowed again, this time almost falling over. “Lord Vader –“ he glanced apprehensively at his back – “I am honored to present His Royal Highness, King Jar-Jar the First of Naboo.”

Vader stared as the most nightmarish creature he had ever seen appeared on the screen. He had a long face like a Tatooine eopie, painted white with bright red spots on either side, and was wearing a rich velvet robe of red and gold. On top of this was perched an enormous gold headdress in the shape of a crescent moon, with gold strings hanging over his face and a train of black silk embroidered with jewels. Two enormous floppy ears stuck out from either side and waggled up and down as the creature tried to bow in the Royal regalia.

At last the creature managed to execute a deep bow, dislodging the headdress in the process. He had to grab it and shove it back on, where it slid lopsidedly over one ear.

The creature grinned, displaying two rows of huge white teeth. “Greetings, berry respected bombad Lord Vader! Meesa so happy to see yousa, and disa fleet of our moocha beloved Empire!”

There was stunned silence on the Star Destroyer’s bridge. Even Tarkin was speechless. The officers of the _Devastator_ blinked at the horrific apparition.

Vader stared.

He _knew_ that voice.

In one shrill exclamation that voice had managed to bring back memories he thought he had suppressed for six years.

Memories of Tatooine. Of _childhood_.

He had seen _that creature_ grab a frog in the marketplace and accidentally spit it on Sebulba’s face. He had seen it at the mercy of the Dug. He had taken pity on the creature and rescued it, earning the notice of its friends.

That one act of foolish, pathetic compassion had brought him into the orbit of a Jedi Master named Qui-Gon Jinn. A Jedi Master whose false promises had taken him from the arms of his beloved mother – and delivered him into the hands of that loathsome turncoat named Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Therefore – from a certain point of view - _that_ creature was responsible for the entire sadistic disaster that was presently masquerading as his life.

Vader’s mind was whirling, dizzy, spinning round and round with confused images mingling with each other until he could no longer reason them out - Tatooine and endless grains of sand and mother and Padme and Obi-Wan -

But he knew somehow, that this creature was responsible for _everything_.

The bridge of the _Devastator_ was tensed, every pair of eyes fixed on the center, apprehension building like a volcano poised to erupt.

“ _BIIIIIINKS!_ ” roared Darth Vader.

And he slumped over the railing, unconscious.


End file.
